Be still and know (that I am here)
by minervanyx
Summary: Damon always feared there would come a point where even his love wouldn't be enough to heal Elena's wounds. There's only so much hurt a man can take. Eventually, everyone breaks, even the strongest person he knows. Post 4x14 oneshot. Minor spoilers for 4x15 "Stand By Me." Title is a lyric from "Be Still" by The Fray.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. No copyright infringement intended.**

**A/N: I started writing this piece last Friday as a speculation/idea of how I wanted episode 4x15 to go, specifically how I wanted the Damon/Elena interaction to play out. I'm pretty proud of how well I was able to anticipate the general plot points of the episode (like Stefan wanting Damon to use the sire bond - ugh), but wherever this story diverges from the canon of last night's episode is me taking artistic license. Also, I waited until after the episode had aired to publish this because I wanted to see how the episode matched up with what I had written, and I'm glad I did. After watching last night's episode, I rewrote the ending of this fic to give D/E a bit more of an optimistic outlook going forward. I absolutely loved last night's episode (in the way you love gut-wrenching television that leaves you a mess of emotions), but it made me want to give Damon and Elena even the slightest semblance of hope for the future. I hope I did them justice.**

* * *

_If you forget the way to go_

_And lose where you came from_

_If no one is standing beside you_

_Be still and know I am_

Damon trudged wearily up the front walkway of the Gilbert home, the fading light of day casting even darker shadows upon a house that had seemed shrouded in darkness and grief since the first time he set foot in it. He couldn't imagine what kind of devastation awaited him inside. The last time he'd seen Elena, she had been practically catatonic, clutching her brother's body in her arms and mumbling over and over about how he was going to wake up. He'd wanted to wrap his arms around her and absorb all her pain and agony for himself, but there hadn't been time for that. Bonnie had disappeared along with Professor Shadypants, Katherine had taken off with the cure, and Stefan was too busy wallowing in his own grief over losing his chance at humanity and guilt over Jeremy's death to be useful. Damon was mourning Jeremy too, and felt his own share of guilt for failing to keep him safe, but they couldn't afford to let their emotions get the best of them. Not when it came to Elena's safety, to her sanity. Vaughn was still a threat, albeit an unconscious one, and in order to figure out what the fuck was going on with Silas they had to find Shane. But all of that was secondary to helping Elena, and what would help Elena was Bonnie. As usual, it had fallen to Damon to be the one to get shit done. Though it had killed him to do so, he'd sent Stefan back to Mystic Falls with Elena and Jeremy while he tracked down Bonnie and got her away from Shane. Rebekah had, surprisingly, offered to stay behind and help him track Shane and keep an eye on Vaughn, who they had trussed up like a turkey and dragged along behind them.

It had been easier than he thought it would be to find Bonnie and Shane. The scent of Shane's blood from his injured leg had been strong, and Damon had caught up to them not far from the entrance to the caves. While he would have liked nothing more than to rip Shane apart for leading them all to a cure that was nothing more than an empty promise, Bonnie had intervened on Shane's behalf and started rambling about Silas raising the dead and bringing Jeremy back to life. He'd told her that Elena had taken Jeremy's body back to Mystic Falls, and Bonnie insisted that they go back as well, which was fine with him. He was ready to get off the godforsaken island and never come back.

Shane had insisted on staying behind on the island to learn more about Silas and what his awakening meant, which was fine with Damon as long as Bonnie agreed to leave. Rebekah had found Vaughn's boat stashed on another beach, and the four of them had set off back to Mystic Falls. They'd parted ways once they got off the plane; Damon and Bonnie were headed back to Mystic Falls while Rebekah figured out what to do with Vaughn. Damon had been all for killing him, but none of them were sure if the Hunter's Curse was still active, and neither Damon nor Rebekah had been eager to test it to find out. She'd promised to "take care of him" and added that she was going after Katherine to find the cure. He wished her luck – Katherine was an expert at hiding, and if she didn't want to be found she wouldn't be – but it wasn't his concern at the moment. A series of increasingly frantic text messages from Stefan had arrived on his phone once they had cell reception again, detailing Elena's continued grief and Stefan's worry that she was losing control. Damon had mentally rolled his eyes at Stefan as he read the last message – of course Elena was losing control. Wouldn't anyone, at this point? He'd driven as fast as he could, dropping Bonnie off at her house at her insistence so that she could gather her Grimoire and some herbs before she ventured to go see Elena. Damon himself had made a quick stop at the Boarding House to wash the blood off his skin and change clothes before getting back in the car and heading to Elena's, his apprehension at what he would find waiting for him growing larger with every passing moment.

He resolutely approached the front door, pushing down the exhaustion, both physical and mental, that had plagued him the past few days. There would be time to examine everything that had happened over the past few days – Kol's compulsion, Shane's manipulations, the brutally honest words he and Elena had exchanged – but none of that seemed to matter now. Jeremy was dead, and Elena was in pain and grieving. Everything else could wait.

Stefan was pacing back and forth in the living room when Damon entered the house, and Damon could hear one heartbeat coming from Jeremy's bedroom upstairs. Stefan turned at the sound of the door opening, and something close to relief flashed across his face as he saw Damon.

"What's going on?" Damon asked, crossing the floor to stand in front of Stefan.

"She won't leave his room," Stefan muttered, his eyes cast to the floor. "She's just sitting there, refusing to leave until Jeremy wakes up."

Damon winced at the news, but pressed on. "Does anyone else in town know?"

"I called Caroline when we got back, and she called Matt," Stefan replied. "I also called Meredith, because we were going to have to do something with Jeremy's body, and we can't afford to raise suspicions." He sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "She came over to take Jeremy's body to the morgue, and Elena flipped out and attacked her, yelling about how Jeremy wasn't dead. It's bad, Damon."

Damon snorted. "No shit it's bad, Stefan. She just lost the last remaining member of her family. What did you think: she was going to be calm and rational about it? It's _Jeremy_."

"She can't afford to lose control, Damon! If she can't handle her grief, she might turn off her humanity, and who knows what would happen if she does that. We could lose her forever."

"If Elena wants to shut it off, Stefan, the only thing we can do is help her through it and get her to feel again. We can limit the fallout, but we can't stop her from feeling – or not feeling, as the case may be – whatever she wants," Damon retorted. "She's strong enough to make it through to the other side."

"But she won't have to do that at all if you talk to her," Stefan urged. "She listens to you."

"So what, you want me to go up there and tell her… what? What can I say? Meaningless platitudes that won't change a thing? She just lost the last member of her family. She's lost every member of her family, and that's on us, Stefan. We brought this whole supernatural shitstorm into her life. Nothing I say will bring Jeremy back, so how exactly am I going to keep her from losing it?" Stefan remained silent and wouldn't look at him, and suddenly it clicked. "You want me to invoke the sire bond?" he asked incredulously. "That's what you mean by her listening to me? You want me to _force her_ to feel?"

"She doesn't have to feel all of it," Stefan defended. "You could make it less… tell her it's going to be okay, get her to calm down. We can't let her lose control, Damon. We can't let her become a monster."

Damon felt the anger well up inside him, burning white hot. He was ready to unleash a furious tirade against his brother for throwing the sire bond in his face at every opportunity only to suggest Damon invoke the sire bond when he thought it was acceptable, for wanting to whitewash Elena's emotions and control her feelings, but then his shoulders sagged and he shook his head. He was just too damned tired.

"It doesn't matter what I say. The sire bond won't help, won't change anything." He looked at his brother, resignation and defeat coloring his voice. "Jeremy is gone. I'm not enough. Not this time."

He shouldered past Stefan and climbed the stairs, following the dull sound of Elena's heartbeat to the door of Jeremy's room. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes moving from Jeremy's still form on the bed to the girl sitting in the computer chair next to it, her unblinking gaze fixed on her brother. Elena's posture was rigid; both hands wrapped around one of Jeremy's. She'd at least changed her clothes since returning from the island, although the dark jeans and navy blue top only added to her somber appearance. She looked broken, her eyes lifeless, dried tear tracks staining her cheeks. He turned his attention back to Jeremy, taking in the way he had been carefully placed on top of the sheets. If it hadn't been for the blood staining his neck, he could have looked peaceful and asleep, and Damon felt an ache in his chest at the sight.

"Elena," he said, his voice soft as he took a step into the room. He didn't want to startle her, although her vampire senses should have alerted her to his presence the second he stepped foot in the house.

She made no move to acknowledge his presence, but after a few moments she spoke. "Are you here to convince me to let Meredith take his body?"

"No," Damon replied simply, his eyes never leaving her. The emptiness in her voice felt like a knife digging into his chest; he was prepared for her pain, her anger, her sadness. He wasn't prepared for her to be devoid of any emotion.

"Did Stefan send you up here to be the bad guy and drag me kicking and screaming from the room?"

"No," he answered again, taking a step away from the door toward her and forcing casualness into his voice that he didn't feel. "I wanted to see if Bonnie had been by to see you."

"She was here," Elena replied in the same monotone as before. "So were Caroline and Matt. Stefan called them when we got back to town. And then Bonnie showed up with her Grimoire and told us about Shane's belief that Silas would raise the dead and what that would mean for- Jeremy."

Her voice faltered on the sound of her brother's name, and for the first time since arriving in the room Damon detected a hint of emotion in her voice, could sense her volatile emotions swirling under the surface, so close to exploding. He took another step closer, and then another until he stood silently at her side, close enough to feel the faint heat radiating from her skin. He remained silent and didn't reach for her, sensing that she wasn't finished speaking.

"That's why I can't let Meredith take him," she elaborated, a hint of desperation coloring her voice. "If she takes him, how will Silas be able to resurrect him? How will we be able to bring him back if he's not here?" Her voice cracked, becoming thick with unshed tears. "If I let her take him, I'm admitting that he's really gone… that I've lost him." She shook her head but still kept her gaze resolutely forward. "I can't…" she trailed off. "I can't, Damon," she repeated, her voice begging him to understand. Her arms wrapped around her torso, hands clutching at her sides as if she could physically contain all her anguish if she could only hold on tight enough.

Unable to stand her pain any longer without at least trying to comfort her, no matter how ineffective his attempts, Damon reached out and touched her shoulder gently, his thumb stroking over her shoulder blade. "Elena…" he murmured softly, knowing there was nothing he could say that would help to ease the pain that was surely engulfing her, wanting to try anyway.

Whether it was his touch or his voice that was the catalyst he would never know. Elena's hand flew up to grip his on her shoulder as she leaned into him, her body beginning to shake as sobs wracked her body. The hand not holding his in a death grip pushed her hair back before covering her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sounds of despair she was unable to suppress. Feeling utterly helpless, Damon sank to his knees beside the chair, his eyes focused on her face. If anyone else had been in the room, he would have been embarrassed by the tears that stung his own eyes; he hated showing his weakness, hated showing that he cared, but this was Elena, and Jeremy, and for them he could allow himself to be vulnerable.

He reached out his hand and cupped her chin, fingers tracing tenderly over her cheek as he guided her face until her tear-filled eyes met his own. "I am so sorry, Elena." The words were inadequate, but they were all he could give her. He was hesitant to offer her physical comfort, the ever-present specter of the sire bond looming over him and making him question every touch.

Damon's body rocked backwards as Elena threw herself against him, her hands scrabbling against the front of his Henley before twisting the black material in her clenched fists. He hesitated for a moment, his desire to hold her warring with his desire to do the right thing by her. _Fuck the sire bond_, he decided. Elena was breaking in front of his very eyes, and if he could help hold her together, then that is what he needed to do. He shifted so he was sitting on the floor, Elena cradled against him as she continued to sob. One hand slid around her waist as the other cupped the back of her head, holding her loosely against him.

"He's really dead," Elena cried against his collarbone.

It wasn't really a question, but Damon found himself nodding against the top of her head. "Yes," he replied, forcing the word past the tightness in his throat. His eyes burned at the thought of the boy lying on the bed next to them. He'd made mistakes with Jeremy, and he hadn't always treated him well, and they'd had their differences, but he respected the kid for how much he loved Elena, how committed he was to her safety, and he'd grown to care about him. He felt guilt and anger for being unable to protect Jeremy, for failing to keep his promise to Elena that he would keep him safe, but he pushed them down. This wasn't the time. Right now, he needed to be strong for Elena.

"Jeremy is dead. My brother is dead," she repeated, as if saying the words aloud would help her understand them, would ease the unbearable pain churning inside her.

Instead, it only made her cry harder, and Damon simply held her as she grieved. He didn't tell her it would be okay, didn't make soothing noises or try to shush her. He didn't tell her that if he could, he would gladly sacrifice himself to give her brother back to her. None of that would make a difference. None of it would heal her. He just sat there silently, wishing he could absorb her pain so she didn't have to carry its weight alone. His left hand rubbed small circles against her side, his right tangled in her hair as he pressed her against him.

Her sobs lessened after a while, the shaking, heaving tears subsiding into light tremors and sniffling. She turned her face slightly more into Damon's neck, exhaling on a shaky breath. "He was the only family I had left," she whimpered against his skin. "I was supposed to protect him, and I failed. This happened because of me. It's my fault."

Damon felt his stomach clench at her words, and he pressed his forehead against her crown as he shook his head. She would feel the guilt no matter what he said, but he couldn't let her self-recrimination go unchallenged. "No," he murmured, "this is not your fault. I know you don't believe me, Elena, but it isn't. It isn't."

Elena pulled back so she was on her knees facing him, her red-rimmed eyes flicking up to meet his concerned blue. "Is this how you felt for 145 years after you became a vampire? Just this aching, vast emptiness that seems like it will never be filled? This crushing pain inside my chest… is that how it was for you?"

Damon didn't speak, but Elena must have read the truth in his eyes because she sagged against him, dropping her head against his shoulder. "I can't imagine living like this for that long," she confessed, her voice hoarse from crying and heavy with resignation. "All I feel inside me is… grief. Sadness and regret and anger that are constantly threatening to overwhelm me. I don't know how to live like this, how to keep it from taking over and erasing me, reducing me to nothing. I don't know if I can." Her face crumpled again. "He was the only thing keeping me together," she cried, echoing the words she had spoken to him before they knew about the cure, before this whole mess started. "It hurts, Damon. Oh god, it hurts."

Damon felt newly shed tears wetting his shoulder, and he dared to press a kiss to her hair. "It won't feel like this forever," he said softly, his mouth still buried in the brown strands. "It'll take time, and it'll hurt, but it will get easier to cope. You have Bonnie, and Caroline, and Matt. They'll help you; they'll help keep the darkness at bay. And Stefan and his hero-hair will be there to help you process all those emotions and sublimate them into socially acceptable forms of repression. It's his specialty," he continued, trying to inject even the slightest bit of levity into the conversation and feeling ridiculously accomplished when he felt the barest hint of a smile curve the lips pressed against his chest.

"And you," Elena added in a watery voice. "I'll have you to hold me just like this and deflect with sarcasm and snark." She released another shuddering breath. "I just… I don't know how to get past this," she admitted, voice wavering with emotion. "Last week, I was happy. Things were still hard, but I was the happiest I had been since my parents died. I had you, and we weren't constantly thinking of the sire bond, and Jeremy was alive. I want that back. I want to go back," she said desperately, the agony in her voice cutting Damon. "It was supposed to get easier, Damon, not harder! This wasn't supposed to happen! I don't know how to handle it. It's too much. I just want it to all go away." She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes. "How do I do that, Damon?"

He swallowed, his chest tightening even more. He knew what she was asking him, and his conversation with Stefan rang in his mind. No matter what his brother said, he couldn't, wouldn't control Elena. He was already paranoid about unwittingly influencing her; there was no way he was going to do it willingly. Besides, Elena deserved to feel (or not feel) whatever she wanted to. It was her life, her decision. He could only protect her as much as she would allow him.

"Elena…" he sighed. "I'm not going to pretend I know what you're feeling. I'm not going to tell you how or what to feel. But know this: the switch doesn't exist. Not really. It's like Rose said – you can turn it off for a while, but it always comes back." He cupped her face in his hands, stroking the wetness on her cheeks. "If you want to turn it off, I won't stop you. I'll stand beside you, help you, keep you from doing something you'll regret, and I'll be here to help you when it comes back." He nodded determinedly. "I won't let you get lost." He couldn't promise her that she would be okay. He couldn't promise her that she would feel better today or tomorrow or the day after that. All he could promise her was that he would be there for her as she had been there for him, that he would do whatever he could to ease her pain.

Elena stared at him for a long moment, absorbing his promise. He held her gaze, hoping his silent reassurance would provide at least a small bit of comfort. Her bottom lip trembled, the tidal wave of pain once again threatening to swamp her. He slid one hand from her cheek to her waist, his thumb returning to rubbing small, soothing circles on her side. He waited, unsure if she would succumb to tears again or if she was too numb to cry.

She reached up and took the hand still on her cheek in hers, squeezing his fingers tightly. "I already am lost," she whispered. "I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to turn it off, wants to not feel anything, to just be numb. I'd do anything to not feel this visceral pain in my chest. But the other part of me is telling me that I need to feel it, all of it, to remind me what I'm fighting for. I can't lose sight of that." She blinked back tears. "But if I change my mind…"

"Just tell me, and I'll help you," he assured her. "Whatever you need, Elena." He shifted their hands so that his fingers tangled with hers, dared to lean forward and press his lips against her forehead. "Whatever you need."

She nodded against him, tears once again leaking from her eyes. "Thank you."

Damon immediately shook his head. "You never have to thank me," he murmured. "Not for this."

They remained like that, the only sound in the room that of his soft breathing and Elena's stifled cries. Damon thought of her brother's body, still lying on the bed next to them. They had to do something with him, let Meredith take him and figure out how they were going to explain his death. He thought of his own brother, undoubtedly still waiting downstairs for them and expecting Damon to have invoked the sire bond. And then there was the matter of Silas, and finding Katherine, and getting the cure so they could use it on Klaus and end the battle once and for all. There was so much they had to do, but all of that faded away as Elena shuffled closer to him, the hand not intertwined with his sliding up his chest to grip his collar as she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, wetting his skin with her tears.

"Can we stay like this for just another minute?" she mumbled against his neck. "I know we have to… take care of Jeremy." Her voice faltered, but she took a shaky breath and continued. "And I know we have to figure everything else out, but… You help calm the storm."

He swallowed, every ounce of love he felt for her welling up inside him until he felt he might explode with it. She was so incredibly strong, somehow managing to soldier on, and he'd be damned if he let her down when she needed him. Fearing his voice would fail him if he tried to speak, he settled for wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tighter against him. He couldn't lessen the maelstrom of pain and grief inside her, but if she needed him to be her anchor, he would do whatever it took to help her weather the storm.

**Fin.**


End file.
